


Be Mine?

by katiebour



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Drunkenness, Embarrassment, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Girls' Night Out, Goats, Mistakes were made, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29222946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebour/pseuds/katiebour
Summary: Ellana attempts to court Solas.  Things don't go according to plan.Written for the Dragon Age Fanfiction server's 2021 Valentine Collection.All the smut is tidily contained in the last chapter, otherwise it's rated T.Elvhen courtesy of Bioware and Project Elvhen.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 27
Kudos: 54
Collections: A Dragon Age Valentine's 2021





	1. I Got You A Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter. There will be more. I cannot confirm or deny the future appearance of three goats and a sheaf of wheat. Unbeta'd, although that might change. 
> 
> Also this is a real Welsh tradition:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lovespoon

Ellana chewed her thumbnail nervously, considering. Solas had been nothing but kind and polite, but with the exception of that conversation about her “indomitable will” he hadn't returned any of her attempts to catch his attention. Maybe they did things differently in the North? She frowned at the thought. His accent sounded like the Dalish of the Marches- how far north _was_ his village?

Regardless, it was time to be more... open...about her interest.

Maybe her advisors would have ideas?

First was Cullen. Surely he could give her a Fereldan perspective. Ellana found herself at the Commander's door and knocked nervously. “Come,” said the voice from inside, and she let herself in. “Inquisitor,” he said, rising to his feet. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ellana felt the heat rise to her cheeks but forced the words out. “Commander, I wanted to ask you a... cultural question, about Ferelden.”

“Of course,” he answered at once, looking quizzically at her reddening face.

“What is, I mean, that is so say, how do Ferelden folk, ah, express their admiration for someone? To court them?” she added hastily.

The Commander's eyes widened fractionally, and he looked down at his desk, his hand coming up to the back of his neck. He cleared his throat. “If someone wanted to express their admiration, they might- give a token of their esteem. Something small and personal, perhaps.”

Ellana considered. She didn't really have much in the way of possessions, as everything she'd brought with her had been lost at Haven. “Is there anything in particular, customary?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “A wooden spoon, carved with the intended's name and decoration meaningful to them is a traditional gift. If the couple weds, they hang it on their wall as an enduring symbol. Ahem.”

She nodded in satisfaction. She was no artist herself, but perhaps Dagna could help. Yes, this was good. “Thank you, Commander,” she said, the wheels in her mind already turning with ideas. “I value your perspective.” Ellana bowed her thanks and walked out the door, oblivious to Cullen's blush and hopeful eyes.

As it turned out, Dagna was more than happy to craft a spoon out of ironbark. The dwarf let out a small squee of delight when Ellana asked her to carve Solas' name on the handle. “Maybe an appropriate rune?” Ellana pondered out loud, wondering exactly what a rune appropriate for a spoon was, and what symbolism might be meaningful to an expert on ancient elvhen culture and the Fade would be.

Perhaps she was overthinking this. A hart or halla would be a good Dalish symbol, and the play on words for “hart” would be amusing. Solas didn't care for the Dalish, but he was fond of the harts in the stables.

“Can you put a hart on it?” she asked Dagna. “Like the ones in the stables?”

It was finished two days later, and it was the most magnificent spoon Ellana had ever seen. It had a barrier enchantment on it that reflected his expertise in protective magic, a hart twining around the bowl, and Solas' name in flowing script. _Perfect._

She took it to him with soup and bread, knowing that he often forgot mealtimes. He was in the rotunda, bent over his books and writing in small, precise handwriting. Ellana couldn't read it at all and it secretly frustrated her. Was he writing in elvhen? She felt a twinge of envy.

“Solas!” she said brightly, moving to the other side of his desk. “I imagine you've forgotten to eat again, so I brought lunch.”

He looked away from his notes, a minute wrinkle smoothing from between his brows. “Inquisitor. My thanks, I had indeed lost track of time.”

Ellana set the tray down, and then picked up the spoon from the side of the bowl. “I had this made for you,” she rushed, “I thought you might like it.”

He took the spoon from her and examined it closely, his expression slightly bewildered. “I thank you. Is that- a barrier rune?”

“Yes, so you can be safe from any surprises while you eat,” she said, somewhat lamely. “Dagna thought, with your affinity for protective magic-”

“-I see,” he answered, and dipped the spoon in the soup. The enchantment activated, but instead of the bubble she'd pictured around him, the small glow cast only around the spoon itself. The soup slid off, pushed by the barrier, and back into the bowl.

Someone snickered from above, and Ellana looked up to see Dorian trying to hold in his mirth with a hand on his mouth.

“It wasn't,” she faltered, “supposed to do that.”

“It was thoughtful, da'len,” Solas offered, and Ellana knew her ears were bright red. She'd given him a non-functional magical spoon. How much of an idiot did you have to be to make a _spoon_ not work?

“If you'll excuse me,” she nearly whimpered, mortification rampant on her features, “I'll let you get back to work.”

Solas set the spoon on the side of the tray and dipped the bread in the soup. Ellana fled, Dorian's bray of laughter following her out. She heard the murmur of Solas' voice reprimanding him.

She was an idiot.


	2. I Got You A Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which alcohol is consumed and mistakes are made.

A few days later, Ellana weighed her options. Nevarra seemed too strange and Antiva too blatant, but then again Cassandra _did_ enjoy Varric's romances. Surely the woman would have a good idea of what would constitute a romantic gift. And Josephine had a good head on her shoulders and was nothing if not tasteful. Either of them seemed like good possibilities for ideas on how to catch Solas' attention.

Mind made up, Ellana went to find the Seeker. It was a grey and rainy day at Skyhold, and the she found the warrior ensconced on the second floor of her tower, laboring over a letter. “Inquisitor,” she acknowledged when Ellana reached the top steps, giving her a nod. “How may I be of service on this day?”

Ellana took a deep breath. “I was hoping you might have some...ideas...on how to court someone. I've never done it before and most of the Dalish bondings are arranged..”

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra said with the beginnings of surprise, “Is there someone for whom you harbor affection, here at Skyhold?”

She could feel her ears burning, damn them. “I am rather fond of Solas.”

Cassandra nodded slowly in approval. “He is an honorable man. He seems to care little for material things, however.”

Ellana sighed. “He has his paints, and he all but lives in the library, so I can't see him needing either paint or books.”

Cassandra stood up and walked to a small bookshelf filled with a variety of slim volumes. “Here,” she said, pulling one from the shelf. “This book recounts-” she flipped pages with familiar ease. “Ah. Yes. There is a courting custom in the Anderfels where a suitor would fetch a tall tree, and tie it upright next to the beloved's house under the cover of night. It would be festooned with ribbons and a sign with the beloved's name. Upon the sun's rising, the beloved would see the gift and then attempt to discover the suitor who had left it.” Cassandra sighed a bit, stroking the page before putting the book back.

“A tree...” Ellana mused. It sounded simple enough. And Solas had to be familiar with the city elves' vhenadahls, festooned with lovers' ribbons. She smiled. Yes, this would work much better than a spoon.

Cassandra cleared her throat. “May I assist, Inquisitor? You will need someone to help erect the tree.” Her eyes were shining.

“Of course!” Ellana said, feeling much more confident.

“Josephine will have ribbons aplenty,” Cassandra whispered in a conspirator's voice.

And with that, the two marched over to the main keep.

It was a few hours to sunset when Ellana, Josephine, and Cassandra set out. It took them near an hour to get to an area outside of the keep, where they looked around for the tallest tree they could find. Cassandra found a beautiful silvery birch and made short work of chopping it down. It was cold, as always, and when they begin to shiver, breaths crystallizing in the mountain air, Josephine passed Ellana a flask. Ellana took it gratefully and swallowed a mouthful, coughing as the strong liquor burned its way down her throat. Josie winked at her, and the three women began tying ribbons to the branches.

A half-hour later, they had emptied Josie's substantial flask between the three of them. Ellana wrote Solas' name on the bark with her knife, thinking that she should perhaps have done this part when sober. “Ish it crookedy?” she asked Josie plaintively.

“I'z PERFECT,” Josie declared, and Cass snorted, stumbling over the trunk of the tree.

“If he doesn' ppreciate it I'll beat him blank n blue,” Cass declared, and Ellana began to tear up.

“But Cass,” she sniffled, “If he's blank n blue he won' wanna KISS me,” she said tremulously, chin quivering, and started to cry.

Cass and Josie rushed over to pat her on the back and reassure her, but she was still sniffling when they picked up the tree and began to carry it back to the Keep.

“Here,” Cass said, stopping for a moment and putting down the tree to pass Ellana _her_ flask. “Stop babying...” she frowned. That wasn't quite right-

“YOU stop babying!” Ellana said sulkily before taking a gulp of the flask.

Three very drunk women, two empty flasks, and one tree arrived at Skyhold an hour after sunset. The guards kept their expressions very still, and Cassandra's foreboding scowl dared _anyone_ to say anything.

They got the tree to the stairs leading to the Great Hall, but the sharp angles as the staircase turned were proving difficult. Fifteen minutes of muffled cursing later, Cassandra dropped her end. “I'z fine here. He can see't here.”

Ellana's face fell. “But it'zn't standing,” she whined, and Josie let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Fine,” the Inquisitor said, “This'z fine. Go sleep.”

“YOU go sleep!” Cassandra retorted, and spun around dizzily before finding her footing to march in the direction of her quarters. The other two followed suit, passing Varric on the way in.

Varric gave them both a curious glance from underneath his reading glasses, and Ellana waved him off before weaving her way to her room.

The next morning, Ellana awoke to the churning of her stomach and emptied the contents into her washbasin. She drank some water to rinse her mouth, and wincing, made her way downstairs towards the kitchen for some tea and bread.

There was a group of people gathered in the main hall, looking outside. Sera ran up to the rotunda and banged forcibly on the door. “Oi, Solas!” she yelled at a volume that made Ellana's head throb, “Someone got you a tree. Something.”

Ellana had a moment of horrifying clarity.

The door opened, and Solas walked out, eyes landing on Sera. “I believe I've misheard you, Sera,” he stated.

“Nah,” Sera said gleefully. “It's a TREE! With ribbons 'n things. Your name onnit. On the stairs,” she finished, giggling.

Solas walked outside. Ellana briefly considered running, but Varric was approaching quickly for a man with such short legs, a look of devious joy on his face. Ellana whimpered and turned to go hide in her room for the next sixteen years or so, but Varric had her arm before she could take a step. “C'mon, Inquisitor,” he said with a shit-eating grin, “You started this. Be brave and see it through.”

“No, please,” Ellana whispered, but her traitor legs followed as he led her outside.

“Seeeeeeeee?” Sera said, twirling in wicked joy, “Elfy tree for the elfy elf. With ribbons for your hair, Droopy.” She cackled.

Ellana heard a buzzing in her ears.

Blackwall stepped closer to the festooned object. “Nice tree. Is it your birthday?”

“...No,” said Solas.

Cassandra stepped outside, hair rumpled and circles under her eyes. She glanced at the group, frowned, and began to walk forward purposefully, picking up Bull's beatstick on the way.

“Oh, dear,” Josie said from Ellana's elbow.

Varric followed Josie's distressed gaze to the rapidly approaching Seeker, and then to Solas, whose brow was wrinkled, a slight frown on his face.

“Say you like it!” Josie blurted out, and heads turned. Solas narrowed his eyes at her, and she nodded her head towards Cassandra. “Say that you like it, Solas,” she hissed, again, and Solas licked his lips.

“It is a very thoughtful...gift. I am unsure of the occasion, but am grateful nonetheless.”

Cassandra stopped, eyed him suspiciously, and then gave a haughty nod. “See that you are, Solas. Not all of us have suitors so devoted to our happiness.”

Ellana squeaked, then turned and sprinted for her room. Twenty years in her room. Maybe twenty five would do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.dw.com/en/germany-an-unusual-way-to-express-love/a-2608908


	3. I Got You Three Goats and a Sheaf of Wheat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole is helping.

Varric found Ellana sitting at the desk in her room, head in her hands. “C'mon, Inquisitor, it's not _that_ bad,” he said, leaning against the desk. “You should have seen Chuckles' face when the Seeker told him he had a suitor.” Varric rubbed a hand over his mouth to cover a smile- _poleaxed_ was putting it lightly. “If it's any consolation, I don't think he knows that it's you.”

Ellana looked over her fingers at him hopefully. “Really?” she said, then scowled. “But I _want_ him to know that it's me. I just want to do it...right.” She sighed gustily. “But I've only managed to make a mess of things so far.”

Varric patted her on the shoulder. “I've seen worse attempts turn out perfectly. Did I ever tell you about the guard-captain I knew in Kirkwall? She was working up to three goats and a sheaf of wheat, but they're quite happy together last I heard.”

Ellana wrinkled her nose. “Three goats and a sheaf of wheat?”

Varric shrugged. “Aveline was from Ferelden, but Donnic was from the Marches. Not sure which tradition she was going for. I think she was going to try and send them to his mother.”

The Inquisitor's shoulder's slumped. “I don't know where he's from, exactly, or if his mother is even living.”

The dwarf blinked at her. “No need to get so literal, Inquisitor, it wasn't a suggestion-”

Ellana squared her shoulders with determination. “But if he's from the Marches, he might know about this one,” she muttered, more to herself than Varric. Her eyes brightened suddenly. “Thank you Varric, I know just the person!” she said with relief, and before he could say anything she'd hugged him tightly. “I should have come to you first.” With that, she stood up, brushed off her uniform, and skipped out of the room.

Varric tried. “Wait, Inquisitor. Maybe we should talk this-” And she was gone.

“Well, shit,” said Varric to no one in particular.

Nearly a month went by without incident, and Varric was almost sure that she'd thought better of the whole plan. He walked outside to see what the latest trade caravan had brought and saw the Inquisitor exchanging coin with a man and taking the bridles of three goats with very long, soft-looking white hair. He sighed, and went back inside, making sure he had a quill and a fresh journal handy, and stationed himself outside the rotunda.

“You want me to give him goats?” Cole said, his head cocked. “Why does Solas want goats?”

“And this,” Ellana added, handing the spirit a sheaf of dried wheat.

“You want him to be happy,” Cole breathed, “and then you will be happy too, and you can be happy together. He just needs to _understand._ ”

“Exactly,” Ellana said, brimming with satisfaction. If even Cole understood the meaning of this strange custom, then Solas, with his vast knowledge of the world, could not help but be clear as to her meaning.

“Oh,” Cole said softly, “I'm his family?”

“And mine too,” she said firmly, giving him a peck on the cheek. “They're in a pen by the stables. If you could-”

“I'll show him,” Cole affirmed, eyes shining. “I promise.”

Varric began writing the minute Cole stepped into the great hall with a sheaf of wheat in one arm, and three unruly goats on leads in his other hand.

“Can you open the door, Varric?” Cole asked plaintively. “I don't want the goats to get lost.”

“Sure thing, kid,” answered Varric, opening the door to the rotunda. After the boy had gotten through the doorframe, he took up a post at the door, and waited.

Solas was sitting at his desk, examining a shard and taking notes, his hand glowing as he attempted some kind of magic on the thing. At the sound of hooves, he turned, eyes widening.

“Cole,” he said firmly, “Why are there goats in this room?”

“I'm helping,” said Cole, smiling broadly. “For you, and this.” He stepped forward, the goats following, and handed the sheaf of wheat over. Solas accepted it without commenting and set it down on the table.

“How are you helping- No, stop that,” Solas said, as one of the goats lipped at the papers on his desk.

“Three goats and a sheaf of wheat means happiness,” Cole explained. “We're family, all three of us. She wants you to be happy so you can be happy together.”

Solas' attention was drawn away by the second goat nosing at a mug of paintbrushes in water that he'd neglected to finish cleaning and put away from the previous evening. “ _Stop that-_ ” he said to the animal, then turned with some desperation to pull his notes out of range of the first goat. It worked several leaves of paper in its mouth with apparent satisfaction.

“Cole, I-” Solas began, increasingly desperate, “Perhaps we might discuss this outside-”

The second goat knocked over the mug, spilling water all over the desk, and over Solas' notes, and he threw his hands up in frustration.

“You don't want them?” Cole sounded as if he were about to cry. “She wanted me to help.”

The third goat chose that moment to defecate on the floor of the rotunda, and Solas closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath-

He grimaced as the smell filled his nostrils. “You helped, Cole,” he managed, “Will you tell me who gifted me these?”

Cole smiled. “She's bright, like you're bright. She cares, but she's afraid. She just wants to do it right.” He handed the goat leads solemnly into Solas' unresisting hand, and disappeared.

Solas heard the spymaster and the Tevinter mage cackling from above him, and sighed. He noticed Varric at the door, scribbling furiously, and stepped forward. “Varric,” he said ominously. It was not a question.

“Nuh-uh, Chuckles,” Varric replied, hands up. "You're a clever elf. You can figure this one out.” He sauntered back to the main hall, and only Solas' pride kept him from following.


	4. Give Me Your Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the jig is up.

Sera found the Inquisitor sitting alone at a table on the second floor of Herald's Rest. “Oi, why so gloomy, Quizzy? Last thing we need's another gloomy elf. Droopy's more than enough.”

Ellana sipped at the glass of watered wine, and sighed heavily. “I've- been trying to tell Solas how I feel about him. But I've fucked up royally.”

Sera wrinkled her nose. “Dunno what you see in him, but's hard to fuck up 'I like you, let's make elfy babies.'”

Ellana sagged in the chair. “I asked Cassandra, but the tree didn't work out-”

Sera snickered. “That was you, wazzit? The guard's wouldn't say, said Cassandra'd told 'em to keep their traps shut.”

“And Cole was supposed to bring Solas _to_ the goats, not the other way around-”

Sera choked on a mouthful of Ellana's wine. “I thought that was a prank, like. How's goats mean 'I want to bump uglies?'”

“It was Varric's idea,” Ellana said defensively. “And I can't just go up to Solas and say that I- I-” she blushed.

Sera rolled her eyes. “Lookit, in the city sometimes a girl'll wear her eating knife sheath, see, but it's empty. Then she walks past her man, an' if he likes her, he'll put his knife in. She keeps it, he's the one she likes. Easy as mud. Just-” she wrinkled her nose in dislike- “Ask Droopy for his knife. Nobody's stupid enough to miss _that._ ”

Ellana blushed beet-red. “I can't just ask him to put his- in my-”

“Look, Quizzy, bein' fancy ain't worked for shit. If you can't just tell him 'Drop trou, let's rebuild the Empire!' Maybe try something little more clear-like.”

Ellana put her face in her arms on the table. “I'll think about it,” she muttered.

Several weeks later, Ellana, Solas, Sera and The Iron Bull were back in the Hinterlands. They'd camped for the night in the Rebel Queen's Ravine, and roasted a few rabbits over the fire. Solas found the Inquisitor looking out over the area north of the ravine, her meal untouched.

“Inquisitor?” He asked, then noticed that the sheath that held her eating knife was empty. “Have you lost a knife?”

She took a deep breath, and then turned to look at him. “I-” she started, then squared her shoulders. “Yes but you could give me yours, if you want.”

Solas noticed that she seemed to be blushing. “If you require its use, of course-”

“No,” she interrupted. “I mean- you could. Put. Your knife. In my sheath. If. You want.”

Her eyes looked luminous in the moonlight, and suddenly the strange events of the past few months began to fall into place in Solas' mind.

 _She wanted- him? Ellana was...trying to_ court _him?_

He realized he'd been silent too long, and she looked away, shame in her hunched posture and lowered ears.

“Ellana,” he said, voice quiet, and put a hand gently on her cheek, applying pressure so that she would face him. Her eyes were closed and tears leaking out from under closed lids. “Ellana, look at me.”

She shook her head, hands gripped tightly in her lap.

He couldn't, but oh, how he wanted to, and she was so fragile in the moonlight. Made of the sharpest of wills and softest of hearts. Ellana. _His_ Ellana.

Solas dropped his head, pressing his forehead against hers. He couldn't think- he couldn't. He shouldn't.

He stroked a thumb over her cheek, then angled to brush his lips over hers, the lightest of touches. He couldn't, but he was, and he _had_ to, needed her like the air they breathed-

She gasped against his lips, clutched his tunic, her plate clattering to the ground. He let out a small sound of purely male satisfaction at her response, and pulled her closer.

Suddenly the night lit up with fire, a loud screech piercing the air. “Dragon!” a scout cried, and everyone ran for their weapons. The click of nails on the stones of the ravine heralded the arrival of dragonlings, and the battle was begun.

Days later, a disheveled, wounded party limped through Skyhold's gates, all other considerations shoved to the side as the desire for bath, bandages, bed, and booze ran through the party like a wave.

No mention was made of the Inquisitor's eating knife, which had found its way back to its sheath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/28950/9-strange-courtship-rituals-around-world


	5. Considerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Solas has feelings.

Solas lay in bed that night in his quarters, thinking.

When Cassandra had told him he had a _suitor_ he'd been shocked, truthfully. He'd done his best to keep his distance, to be _necessary_ without being familiar, and he couldn't imagine who amongst Skyhold's residents would have an interest.

He admired the Inquisitor, certainly, but he had been relatively sure that her affections were directed towards the Commander. The man had made little secret of his own intentions, gazing wistfully after her, finding excuses to talk with her.

Solas got out of bed, padding over to the small table that held the few small things he treasured. He ran a finger over the spoon, over the _hart_ that she'd had carved for him. A clever one, his Ellana.

As it was, the spoon was his favorite for stirring spices into his hot apple cider, and equally his favorite for mixing paint with water. Nothing clung to the spoon, no waste of cider or paint, perfectly clean and dry when he set it down on his desk.

A vase held a smattering of dried stalks of wheat and birch branches, ribbons decorating the ends. He'd cut them off the tree before the servants had hauled the trunk away. Solas had followed, bewildered but touched, and once they'd split the tree, he'd pulled the water out of it with a spell. They'd chopped it and hauled it to his quarters, where he enjoyed a fire on colder nights. It was his, after all, and it meant something that someone in this time had put their effort into a gift for him.

_Ellana_ had put her effort into a gift for him.

He rubbed a finger on one of the ribbons and thought about the city elves, tying ribbons into trees with their beloved. When he couldn't sleep, Solas would light the branches with tiny mage-lights, enjoying the simplicity of the shadows cast on the ceiling, the warm glow of wheat shining like gold amongst the silver birch.

The goats had been returned to their pen, the stablehands more than happy to care for them. He'd received a message that they had been shorn, and that he could do with the wool as he pleased. One of the weavers in the castle was making a soft undershirt for him, and he'd taken some of the hair for brushes. Too soft for frescoes, but he occasionally liked to put watercolors over the sketches in his journal.

Each of her gifts was ridiculous in its own way, and he couldn't imagine where she'd gotten such ideas. But it mattered that she cared enough to carry through with her plans, and brave, in the face of his studied disinterest.

It would be kinder to gently dissuade her, to remain a friend, a mentor, perhaps. But the threads of his own tangled feelings, admiration, desire, affection-

Solas wasn't completely sure that he could deny them. He knew he didn't want to.

He would call to her in the Fade tonight, he decided, and they would talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then there was Fade Tongue.


	6. The Dread Wolf Hunts

“-wake up,” and Ellana sat up in bed, heart racing.

Oh.

That was-

He was-

She touched her lips and took a shaky breath.

Creators, the man could _kiss._

She'd had a stolen kiss or two back in the clan, but anything more waited until a bonding. She was old not to have taken a bonded, but many Keepers eschewed familial duties for the more stringent needs of the Clan.

He'd kissed her before the damned dragon in the Hinterlands, for a few blinding moments before circumstances interrupted.

In the Fade, Solas took his time.

It was clear he had- _experience_ , and after those slow, honeyed kisses where he'd made her knees buckle, Ellana was fairly sure he was interested.

 _We shouldn't_ , he'd said. Did he intend to wait? Wait until-

It wasn't as if this were any time to be thinking about a bonding. The world was in danger. They had responsibilities. She didn't even know his own views on bonding, or those of his village. Maybe his people were more comfortable with physical liaisons. Maybe that was all he wanted. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Ellana flopped back on the bed and pulled her pillow over her face, then yelled in muffled frustration. This was why the Dalish arranged things. It was clear, everyone knew the expectations of behavior and each step of a betrothal. None of this dancing around, hot eyes, warm lips, strange gifts, veiled words.

He would drive her mad.

He was strangely hard to find for several weeks.

Ellana woke at dawn to the quiet _click_ of her door, and rubbed a hand over her face as she glanced outside. It was too early for the morning meal. She padded down the stone stairs with a wince- Fen'harel's _balls_ it was cold. Maybe she'd break down and ask Josephine to get her a pair of those _shem_ slippers. If she was going to walk around on stone in the middle of winter-

There was a small wrapped object on the floor. Ellana picked it up, untying the string curiously. The rough cloth wrapping revealed-

A spoon?

It had Elvhen writing carved on the handle- her name.

Oh.

Her hands shook a little as she examined it carefully- a wolf carved into the bowl. And it had a faint tingle of power- was that an ice rune?

A small slip of paper fell from a fold of the cloth. She opened it, and read:

_May your soup never be too hot._

The script was precise and beautiful. He hadn't signed it.

When the servant brought her a bowl of porridge and a steaming cup of tea, she spooned some sugar in the tea and stirred. The rune activated, and within ten seconds her tea was frozen slush.

He'd given her a non-functional spoon. She snorted, pulled it out of the slush, dried it with the napkin. Held it to her heart.

It was perfect.

She couldn't find him anywhere that day.

The next morning, she woke to the quiet _click_ of her door, and jumping out of bed she bounded down the stairs, avoiding the box with a cloth over it and threw open the door.

The Great Hall was empty but for the guards.

Ellana closed the door and turned back to the box, pulling the cloth away and lifting out the contents.

It was a tiny tree in a glazed pot, a _vhen'adahl_ in miniature. Tiny ribbons hung from the branches in between the leaves. The glazed pot featured an abstract wolf chasing a hart on one side, her name in Elvhen on the other.

Her ears were flaming.

_He was courting her._

She waited in the rotunda for over an hour before her advisors called her away.

Ellana wrapped herself in a blanket and slept next to the door that night. She woke to the sound of the balcony doors closing and cursed.

Ellana walked up the stairs and gaped, letting the blanket fall around her. On the opposite wall, he'd painted a mural of three goats grazing next to a field of wheat. The plaster was dry to the touch. He'd had to have dried it magically.

How had he gotten in, and out? With brushes, paints, canvas for the floor. All without waking her- or using the door.

There was a note on her desk. _Your bed would be much more comfortable than the floor, vhen'an._

She let out a tiny, high sound that was somewhere between astonishment and delight.

_Vhen'an._

She had to go tell Cassandra and Josie. Right. Now. Or she was going to die.

Ellana didn't bother looking for him. He would find her when he was ready, her clever wolf.

The next morning she smiled when her door clicked, and made her way down the stairs.

A small, worn knife lay on the stone.

It was, in fact, his eating knife.

She picked it up, carried it over to her dresser, took out her own eating knife from its sheath, then put his in.

Then she opened up the drawer and shoved it behind all of her underwear. She put her own eating knife in there too for good measure, then closed the drawer silently. Her face was riotously red and her heart was racing.

Ellana felt as if she'd done something unspeakably wicked. He would know, too. She'd even asked him to. It was different, somehow, knowing that he was playing this game with her, chasing, teasing, hiding.

She blushed at nothing all day, her mind wandering as she tried to answer letters. She couldn't focus. He was the chess master, and she felt as though checkmate was only a move away.

She was in her nightshirt, reading by candlelight when she heard a soft knock at her door. Cassandra had said she'd bring by the next volume of _Swords &Shields, _but Ellana hadn't thought she'd come by so late _._ “A moment,” Ellana called, and wrapped in her blanket, opened the door.

Her mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Please come in,” she whispered, and he did, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably add a smutty finish. If you just came for the fluff, stop here. ;)


	7. Please Come Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't not do the title. I'm a terrible woman. You're welcome XD

Ellana couldn't look away- he was here, in her quarters, the world quiet around them. She swallowed, suddenly unsure of herself. She didn't know how to do this, how to-

“Ellana,” his voice interrupted her thoughts, his hand smoothing down her arm. Solas' eyes met hers searchingly, and her breath hitched. His hands found hers and squeezed reassuringly. She looked at him, simply looked at him, sharp cheekbones, eyes dark in the shadows of the hall, beautifully sculpted lips that Ellana knew by now fit so perfectly over hers. She leaned towards him, tentative, wanting, grateful the moment he bent down and moved to claim her.

Ellana's eyes fluttered shut at the slow, gentle press of his lips, the tip of his tongue easing her mouth slightly open. He drew her bottom lip between his, sucked gently, teased it with his teeth. She shivered and he broke the kiss to stroke a hand up her jaw, slowly caressing the edge of her ear. Solas kissed her again, his tongue teasing her own, and she whimpered as desire for this, for him, burned a path down to her core.

He leaned his forehead against hers, breath feathering against her lips, and he drew back to look at her. There was something in his eyes, some kind of grief that drew his brows in, some ineffable sadness that even this couldn't touch. “What's wrong?”

“You are so very young,” he answered softly. “Your brightness undimmed despite the darkness of the world. I would not wish to be the shadow that tarnishes your life.”

“You aren't,” she protested, cupping his cheek with her hand. “You won't.”

“Not yet,” he whispered, closing his eyes and leaning into her hand, covering it with his own. “Not yet, vhen'an.” He turned and kissed her palm, then drew her hand down into his own. “Do you want me to come up to your room, arasha?”

Ellana realized he was giving her a chance in case she was having second thoughts. “Please,” she blurted out, her hand tightening on his. She stepped backwards, her gaze beseeching. “Please come up with me.” She felt her cheeks burn as she tested the word on her tongue. “Please, vhen'an.”

He bent down and kissed her, and any thought that she might have had flew away under the warm press of his lips. The tip of his tongue urged her mouth open under his, and she moaned against him as his fingers moved up to stroke her ear. “Go on,” he said against her lips, and she broke the kiss and turned to the stairs. His arm snaked out and pulled her back, mouth hot on hers. Ellana's knees were trembling when he said roughly, “Go or I will have you right here. _Go._ ”

Blanket dropping to the floor, she turned and all but ran up the stairs as if the Dread Wolf himself was at her heels. But it was Solas who followed close behind, Solas who caught her next to the bed, pulling her back into his arms, Solas who cupped her face in both hands and kissed her as her hands fisted in his tunic.

His hands moved to her hips and under her nightshirt, his touch firm as his fingers curled around her waist, thumbs caressing the sides of her belly. When he moved upward, hands shifting to cup her breasts, she gasped and tensed.

“Ellana?” he breathed, pulling back to look at her face. “What-”

“I don't know how to- I've never...done this,” she said, and his eyes widened. “We don't usually until we're bonded. I mean, I know how it works, and I have the tea, it's just-” she faltered. “Is that, um, all right?”

“I-, yes,” Solas said, and Ellana couldn't decide whether he looked pleased or dismayed.

“You're disappointed,” she said, shoulders dropping and closing her eyes. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean-”

“No,” he interrupted, “No, vhen'an, I simply-” he sighed and took her hand, then sat on the bed facing her, pulling her to stand between his legs. “Look at me.”

Red with embarrassment, she opened her eyes and met his warm, concerned gaze. “I'm far from disappointed, arasha.” He paused, gave her a rueful smile. “Your innocence is a gift I don't deserve, and yet knowing that I would be your first-” something in his expression changed subtly.

Ellana suddenly felt like a hunted halla.

“Enas amahn,” Solas said, eyes hot, and moving to lounge on his side, patted the bed next to him. “Enas amahn, ma'lan, lanas em pala i'ma.”

She went scarlet to the tips of her ears, and and slid onto the bed facing him, unsure of where to look or what to do.

He rolled on his back, and said softly, “Come kiss me, ma'lan.”

Ellana scooted next to him, propped up on her forearm, and timidly reached out with her other hand to run the backs of her fingers up his ear. His eyes fluttered shut, making a soft, pleasured sound. She realized suddenly that he was letting her touch him, letting her set the pace. She stroked his face, ran a light finger down the bridge of his nose, traced along his eyebrows, touched the corner of his mouth as it quirked up.

Solas kissed her fingertips when she ran them gently across his lips, his eyes opening to watch her, hunger leashed under his deliberate patience. Ellana leaned in to kiss him, felt his hand ease into her hair, gently. The fire in her built as she leaned on him, hand on his shoulder, her leg between his.

The ridge in his leggings pressed against her belly made her pulse race.

“Solas,” she whispered, “Please. What do I-”

“Come here,” he rumbled, his hands pulling her over him, settling her legs on either side of him.

She mewled as his hardness pressed against her core, only a few layers of cloth between them.

He put his hands on her hips, pulled her down against him and rolled his own, watching as her mouth opened slightly with want. “Again, please,” she managed, her hands over his, her head leaning back, eyes fluttering shut. “Solas,” Ellana half-sobbed.

His hands moved again under her nightshirt, stroking her stomach. “May I see you?” he asked, and without reserve she pulled it over her head and tossed it to the floor.

He said nothing for a long moment, letting out a sharp breath. “You are so very beautiful, vhen'an,” he rasped finally. “Isalan dera na.”

“Please,” she said, “Creators, Solas _touch_ me, please-”

His thumbs skimmed her nipples and she keened. Under his teasing fingers her nipples stood erect, and when he gently tugged, then rolled them between his forefingers and thumbs, she let out a shocked cry of pleasure.

“On the bed, on your back,” he said, moving with her until he lay between her legs, and lowered his mouth to her breast. She panted and stroked his scalp, watching as he teased her nipple with his tongue, then drew it into his mouth to suckle. He moved to lave her other breast with the same focused attention, her head lolling back on the bed as he pressed kisses to her sternum, her stomach.

“Ellana,” he said, and she raised her head to see him poised over her, waiting.

“Ar ame nar,” she answered, and Solas pulled her soaked smalls off.

When his tongue found her slit she nearly arched off the bed.

He started with long, slow licks, tonguing her cleft before moving up to gently suck her clit. He kept a slow rhythm, humming low sounds of enjoyment. Ellana clutched the bed-covers, head turning to the side as she panted and moaned her pleasure. She hadn't _known_ it was like this. She'd had plenty of time to learn her own body, but it was something else entirely to know that he was the one driving her to the brink.

“Ma'lan,” he said, tonguing her once. “Look at me, ma'lan.” She raised her head to look at him, his eyes intense, and gasped as he sucked her clit, holding her gaze. He smoothed a hand down the back of her thigh, and when she felt his finger begin to ease inside of her, her head dropped back to the bed. When he began to lick her clit again, she felt herself clench around his finger and cried out. He pulled out slowly and then two fingers pressed inside. He kept them still as he built a rhythm with his tongue, and she felt heat and pressure and _want_ building.

“Vhen'an,” she said, “I'm close-”

Solas made a feral sound in response, keeping his rhythm, and her cries grew louder and louder until she fell over the precipice. She shuddered and pulsed and arched into his hand, his mouth, keening, as he drew out her orgasm. She clenched her thighs around his head when he continued to tease her oversensitive bud, and he eased off, slowly withdrawing his fingers.

She watched through half-lidded eyes as he sucked his fingers clean, moving back to stand and undress. Ellana hummed in pleasure as tunic came off to reveal his lean torso, as he peeled his leggings and smalls off with efficient movements. He looked up as she let out a soft sound and smiled knowingly before moving to lay on his side facing her. “How do you feel?” he asked, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“Amazing,” she said, holding back a giggle at his smug look, “and um, curious. Can I-” she looked at him, reddening a bit, and he laughed.

“I am at your mercy, vhen'an.”

“How should I, um, touch you?” she asked, reddening.

Solas took her hand and wrapped it around the shaft of his cock, his own hand covering hers as he guided her in a stroke. “Like- that,” he said, letting out a breath as she repeated the movement. He felt like iron under silk, and Ellana watched with fascination as the foreskin glided up around the head and then moved back down with each movement. After a moment she trailed her hand up his chest.

“Does this feel good?” she asked, running a finger over his nipple.

“Yes,” he said, voice catching, and let her explore him, After a few moments he smoothed a hand down her hip. “Ma'lan, I would be inside you, if you will allow it.”

“Sathan,” she said shyly, and let him ease her on her back, swallowing as he settled between her legs, pressing them close together.

Solas covered her body with his own, making no move to join them but instead kissing her. His warm skin was tantalizing and she stroked her hands up his back as she tasted herself on his tongue. He moved to kiss her neck, a hint of teeth making her moan.

He lined himself up and slowly eased the tip of his cock inside her, pulling out and pressing back in inch by inch as her wetness eased his way. Ellana tilted her hips and made a small, desperate sound as he filled her.

They moaned together when he hilted in her. “Ma lath,” he whispered against her ear, and rocked his hips.

She whined inarticulately at the feel of him, and clutched at his back.

“On?” Solas asked breathlessly.

“On'ala,” she reassured him, closing her eyes as he lengthened his strokes.

His measured pace grew erratic, his face and chest beautifully pink, and Ellana moved her hands down, fingers clutching his ass as she met his thrusts. She felt like a goddess when he let out a ragged series of cries, holding him close as he shook and spent himself inside her.

Solas rested his forehead against hers, and they breathed together in the quiet. Ellana whined when he moved to part himself from her, and he chuckled. “I'll come back, arasha. Let me fetch a cloth.”

She reluctantly let him go and watched as he padded over to her washbasin, picking up the small towel and bringing it back. She cleaned herself, then gave him the towel and he did the same, tossing it neatly in her clothes basket before laying back down next to her.

Ellana cuddled on his chest, running a finger lightly between freckles, more content than she ever remembered being. “Ar lath ma,” she said softly.

“Ar lath ma,” Solas said back, stroking her hair.

“I'm so glad I gave you a spoon,” she said, and he laughed.

“As am I, vhen'an,” he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen Translations:
> 
> Arasha- My happiness  
> Enas amahn- Come here  
> Ma'lan- My woman  
> Enas amahn, ma'lan, lanas em pala i'ma- Come here, my woman, let me make love with you.  
> Isalan dera na- I long to touch you  
> Ar ame nar- I am yours  
> Ma'lath- my love  
> Sathan- please  
> On- good  
> On'ala- amazing


End file.
